


second date

by whatabadchoice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Frat Boy Dean, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, TA Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10541028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: “Cas!” Dean whisper-shouts, but he’s not really stopping Castiel at all. Even as he squirms, Dean leans into Castiel’s touch when he brings a hand up to cup his freckled jaw. Dean’s eyes are squeezed shut and Castiel is reminded of where they are at the way he bites his lip to keep quiet.Oh right. Thisistechnically a public place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the midwinter 5k tropefest challenge! Hope you enjoy :)

“Cas, buddy, you can’t just--”

Dean’s neck is flushed as Castiel ignores the man’s half-hearted protest and spreads his fingers over the heated flesh of his stomach. Though his _friend_ is perpetually lounging around in carefully laidback sweatshirts, an obnoxious hat inexplicably perched backwards on his nonchalantly gelled back hair, Castiel knows he spends hours at the gym trying to get rid of that… little… _ah_ yes there it is. Castiel spares a sweeping touch to pinch not so innocently at the doughy patch of flesh near Dean’s navel. He grins at the renewed bloom of a blush on Dean’s cheeks and the hiss of not quite annoyance on his lips.

“Cas!” Dean whisper-shouts, but he’s not really stopping Castiel at all. Even as he squirms, Dean leans into Castiel’s touch when he brings a hand up to cup his freckled jaw. Dean’s eyes are squeezed shut and Castiel is reminded of where they are at the way he bites his lip to keep quiet.

Oh right. This _is_ technically a public place. 

Castiel pauses for a moment, one hand still cupping Dean’s face while the other halts its trajectory to the waistband of his jogging pants. He absentmindedly toys with the elastic there, chewing on his lip in indecision.

“Cas?” Dean says then, and his deep voice has lost its breathlessness so Castiel can’t help but look at him. Dean’s eyes are wide and his lips are still red from where he had been pressing them together. “What are you… Do you want to stop, or?” 

Once, Castiel had been sure Dean was just naturally flushed, his golden skin forever tainted by a delicious rosacea of some sort. But, as he got to know the engineering student better, he realized that Dean _blushed_. A _lot_. Well, at least around Castiel.

Still, he hadn’t answered and Dean was attempting to extricate his broad fingers from where they had tangled in Castiel’s unruly dark locks and _that_ just would not do.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Castiel snapped, before Dean could take his hands away. Castiel nodded in approval when they tightened instead, pulling on his hair lightly and drawing out a groan from his chest that was definitely unintentional. 

Public place. Public place.

“We should, however,” Castiel began, but Dean had decided to take matters into his own hands and was kissing Castiel’s neck enthusiastically, his lips leaving a burning trail down Castiel’s jaw and under the collar of his starched oxford collar. Castiel took a moment to thank the universe that Dean’s mouth remained lipstick-less. Although…

_Public place!_

“We should really reconvene…” Castiel says after allowing Dean to unbutton his shirt down to his sternum.

“M’fine right where I am,” Dean mumbles against Castiel’s nipple and Castiel cannot stop his sharp intake of breath. 

Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the way Dean’s plush lips feel in contrast with the soft bites into his skin. It’s still hesitant, still new, and God help him, Castiel loves it. 

When Dean fumbles with Castiel’s belt buckle, however, his eyes snap open and he’s pulling Dean’s head back by the ridiculous white cap. He looks up at Castiel, mouth parted and green eyes wide in the relative darkness of the broom closet. Castiel could count the freckles, but he knows that would take a few hours at least. He’s tried. A full review session hadn’t cut it. And those were just the ones visible under Dean’s loathsome tank top. Dean’s expression is challenging and vulnerable all at once and Castiel wants to tear his own pants off so he can fuck Dean’s mouth.

Dean must notice something in his expression because a ghost of a smile is on his lips. Castiel grunts and flips Dean’s stupid cap off his head to grab him by the hair and pull him up to eye level.

“You mad, Cas?” Dean asks, grinning wide in the small space. He leans in and pecks Castiel on the mouth. “Aw, come on buddy,” Dean continues, staying closer than strictly necessary, “turn that frown upside--”

“My room.” Castiel interrupts. “Five minutes.”

He reaches behind him to where the door handle had been digging into his back and all but tumbles out of the cramped space, scooping up his messenger bag that had fallen by the wayside earlier. After a second spent regaining his balance, Castiel pulls the door shut and begins to walk briskly to the North dormitories. He runs a hand through his hair self consciously and buttons up his shirt, belatedly noticing his favourite pen fell out of the breast pocket. Too late to turn around now, he is making a point. 

It’s not thirty seconds before Castiel hears footsteps behind him. They are soon accompanied by light panting and a large hand clapping onto Castiel’s shoulder.

“I said _five minutes_ , Winchester,” Castiel hisses, glancing around the empty hallway.

“It’s two in the morning at the library, Cas,” Dean scoffs, his hand dropping down to ghost over Cas’ hip. The warmth of it drops away and Castiel misses it instantly. A thought which just serves to incense him further.

“Someone could see,” Castiel mutters half heartedly, but even he can see the entire library is empty. In fact, Castiel had to have Dean borrow his TA pass to scan himself in after hours.

“You can tell them you’re tutoring the dumb frat boy so he can stay on academic probation,” Dean replies easily and Castiel shakes his head incredulously.

“You are in need of many things, Dean Winchester, but tutoring is not one of them,” Castiel retorts, rolling his eyes. He bites his lip to keep from mentioning the Dean’s list or the minimum grade point average required for the co-op program Dean also participates in. He is still jogging a little to keep up with Castiel’s long strides, but he’s not far enough behind for Castiel to miss Dean’s infuriating smirk. The faux confidence should annoy Castiel. Lord knows everything else about the man does. But instead it just serves to stoke those tiny embers of affection that Castiel would much rather stamp out.

“You gonna give me what I need, Castiel?” Dean replies as Castiel crosses his arms against the blast of cold wind outside the library doors. Though he knows Dean is goading him, he can’t help the way the muscles in his stomach tighten at the sound of his full name in Dean’s deep voice. He doesn’t pause. Instead, he speeds up.

“Ha! You liked that, didn’t ya, Cas?” Dean says and Castiel doesn’t have to look to know he’s sporting that stupid grin again. He’d like to give that mouth something better to do. 

Castiel doesn’t respond, scanning his ID at the entrance to his dormitory and dragging Dean in by the collar of his ridiculous floral patterned sweatshirt.

“Will you be quiet?” Castiel hisses as Dean nearly trips forward. It’s only then that Castiel notices his flip flops. In mid January. Insufferable. 

“Only if you make me,” Dean says, and Castiel looks up just fast enough to see that pink tongue dart out to wet his lips.

Keys. He needs the keys to his room now.

It’s a few seconds later when they _finally_ get into Castiel’s cramped space and even though it seemed they had been touching since the moment Dean had sat in front of Castiel in the deserted grad student section of the library, suddenly Castiel finds himself standing three feet away from the man. He looks around almost comically, but Dean’s cocky grin is nowhere to be found. Instead blotches of red colour his cheeks and his hands tremble where he plays with the hem of his sweatshirt.

Dean Winchester, engineering student and intolerable frat boy, is standing three feet away from Castiel with his hair mussed (oops), his lips swollen (double oops), and his fingers twitching looking distinctly… _nervous_.

“I, uh, haven’t,” he stutters. The sound of his voice cracking reminds Castiel to close his mouth. He doesn’t stop staring though. Dean finally looks up from the floor with a shrug, his mouth ticking up in a half-smile that Castiel immediately wants to kiss. “Wanna give a guy some tips, here, buddy?” He asks, a bit of the old cadence back in his tone. Castiel is too floored to say anything yet, so Dean steps closer, rolling his shoulders back and pasting on a confident grin. “Or, uh, we don’t have to… We can- wanna watch a movie or something maybe?”

“No,” Castiel says, drawn forward despite the wide eyed look Dean shoots his way. His eyes immediately glance off to the sad bathroom though, darting towards the bed to the right of them only to settle right back on the ground.

“We could, I mean, I could… order food or...” Dean is mumbling, and Castiel finds himself jerking the boy’s chin up so he can see those lips again. Dean inhales loudly through his nose when Castiel brushes his thumb over the corner of Dean’s closed mouth.

“No,” Castiel says, the word surprisingly steady in his throat. “I want you to suck my cock, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate, lips parting as he all but scrambles to his knees in front of Cas, not even bothering with the bed a mere two feet away.

“Shit,” Dean says, the word barely a breath. “Yeah, ok, _shit_.”

“Be quiet,” Castiel says, almost absentmindedly. “You’re never quiet.” 

Dean clamps his mouth shut, but Castiel can still see the twitch of his bottom lip hinting at a smirk. He resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“You never do know when to stop or what’s good for you,” Castiel murmurs, jerking Dean’s chin up from where he’d been concentrating on undoing Castiel’s slacks.

“Guess I need someone to show me, Cas,” Dean says. It’s supposed to be confident, Castiel is certain, but it comes out nearly pleading and Castiel lifts an eyebrow at Dean.

“I had work to do earlier, you know, and you were being quite the distraction.”

“You invited me to the library to study at two in the fucking morning, Cas,” Dean stops pawing at Castiel’s pants to complain. “I didn’t _realize_ you actually wanted to run quiz drills.” Dean rolls his eyes, sliding his hands up behind Cas to squeeze his ass. Castiel ignores him, palming his dick through the material, heavy with arousal at the sight of Dean on his knees, and thrusting into his own touch. Dean huffs and bats his hand away a second later with a frown on his face.

“Well,” Castiel says, ignoring the burn in his cheeks at the reminder. “Regardless,” he says, regaining confidence as eyes his crotch hungrily. “Tapping your pen on your desk incessantly does not count as studying.” 

“Not my fault I couldn’t concentrate…” Dean mutters as he succeeds in pulling Castiel’s pants to his ankles. Castiel hums in approval. There is a pause in movement and Castiel looks down.

Dean is staring up from behind long lashes with something akin to reverence in his eyes. Castiel can’t look at _that _too long so he drags him back up for a kiss.__

__“I-” Dean attempts, but Castiel doesn’t let him finish, it’s been too long since he tasted Dean’s tongue. “I thought you wanted…” Dean tries again, trailing off when Castiel eyes him, smug._ _

__“Bed,” Castiel answers instead, shoving Dean back onto the sad little school owned mattress._ _

__He’s still wearing that abysmal sweater and-- oh _God_ the fucking flip flops with socks on -- Castiel shuffles forward, forgetting about the pants still stuck around his ankles. Pretty soon he is pitching onto the bed, onto Dean, who is still panting from their earlier kisses. Castiel extricates himself from the face full assault of patterned leafery and steadies himself onto his hands on top of Dean._ _

__“Smooth,” Dean says. At the look Castiel gives him, he at least has the decency to bite his lip in regret._ _

__“Shut.” Castiel uses one hand to push Dean down from where he leans back on his elbows. “The.” He bites at Dean’s lip. Hard. “Fuck.” He reaches down, pinching at a nipple through the offensive sweatshirt. “Up.”_ _

__Castiel reaches right underneath the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants to wrap his fingers around his cock. The sound Dean makes resembles that of a startled seal, but Castiel no longer has the patience for teasing, yanking his pants down and pulling his erection out without further preamble._ _

__Dean is cut. And larger than Castiel’s had in the past. And it’s been a while, really, since he’s done anything like this. Undergrad maybe, when he went through that pot (and group sex) phase._ _

__At least, those are the excuses he gives himself when he swallows Dean’s dick down a little too quickly and gags. Dean hardly seems to mind though. His face is caught somewhere between keening pleasure and supreme shock. Castiel, once situated, can’t help but smirk at _that_ , even around the cock in his mouth._ _

__Damn right._ _

__“Cas,” Dean whispers, eyes wide and wet. Castiel wonders for a split second if this might be Dean’s first blow job._ _

__But that would be ridiculous._ _

__Dean Winchester may not be the star quarterback or the dumb jock he plays the part of, but Castiel knows he’s had his fair share of conquests. Not to mention the one time at the New Years party last year, when Castiel had overindulged at the wine and cheese and stumbled into a Sigma Chi gathering._ _

__Yet Castiel can’t help but think about that downcast stare and the nervous way he had bitten his lip before… “I’ve never…”_ _

__“Cas!” Dean says, louder this time, and Castiel is brought back to the present by the sharp pain of Dean tugging on his hair. “You gotta--” An abortive thrust pushes Dean’s cock further into Castiel’s mouth and he can feel the glans hit the back of his palette. He moans, sucking harder and closing his eyes. _God_ he’d forgotten what that felt like. _ _

__“Please, Cas, you have to--” Dean whimpers, pulling on Cas’ hair again. Irritated, Castiel glances up to see Dean’s hand move down to where Castiel’s lips still encircle his erection. Dean’s fingers wrap around the base of his own cock, close enough that Castiel can’t help but dart out his tongue to taste them._ _

__“Fuck!” Dean hisses, tightening his grip and pushing at Castiel’s forehead. “Get off! Off!”_ _

__Castiel pulls off immediately, wiping his mouth and looking up in mild confusion. Dean breathes once, slowly in and slowly out, eyes still shut tight. Castiel licks absently at his fingers, intermittently unbuttoning his shirt at the same time._ _

__Dean squints one eye open, catches sight of Castiel with a finger still in his mouth, and groans loudly._ _

__“Well?” Castiel asks, discarding his shirt and lifting the hem of Dean’s sweater expectantly. That god-awful floral pattern needs to go._ _

__“Well?” Dean echoes, finally opening his eyes as Castiel calmly manhandles him so that his sweatshirt and undershirt are flung up and over his head. Castiel throws the abhorrent article of clothing onto the floor of his bedroom where it is immediately lost to the sea of clothing in the dark. Dean is still gaping like a fish as Castiel moves to remove his sweatpants completely. He bites back a whimper when he sees Dean has elected not to wear undergarments. _Fuck_._ _

__“You said I’d get to suck you off!” Dean finally exclaims when he realizes Castiel is unlikely to explain himself._ _

__“Oh is that what’s got you all worked up, then…” Castiel mutters airily, kissing Dean’s big toe._ _

__“Uh, that and a whole bunch of other shit - _Cas!_ ” _ _

__Dean yanks his foot away when Castiel accidentally runs his tongue along the tendons of his foot._ _

__“What are you--” Dean huffs again, and Castiel can see his cheeks flush that dark pink again, which reminds him of his flushed cock, which reminds him of Dean interrupting a perfectly good blow job for no goddamned reason. He scowls._ _

__“Are there no appendages I am allowed to put in my mouth?” Castiel snarks, moving his way up to Dean’s knees._ _

__“No!” Dean says. “I mean, yes… I mean, _fuck_ Cas…”_ _

__“So you _do_ want me to continue?” Castiel asks, and Dean looks distinctly torn. _Oh_. “You want me to continue, but you want to taste me too.”_ _

__Dean shuts his eyes again, but they snap open almost immediately when Castiel bites the inside of his thigh._ _

__“Answer me, Winchester,” Castiel warns._ _

__Dean pants, arching his hips a little as he spreads his legs._ _

__“Wasn’t--” Dean is cut off by a moan again, kicking his foot out when Castiel sneaks a hand under his ass. “Wasn’t even a question,” he manages, the smirk on his face largely negated by the desperation in his voice. Castiel is about to answer when the smirk finally disappears, and the tension in Dean’s back gives, his legs splaying open and his hands coming to grab at his own thighs._ _

__“Please,” he says, staring at Castiel. “Fuck, Castiel.”_ _

__“See? You _can_ use your manners.”_ _

__Castiel hitches Dean’s leg up so he can see him fully._ _

__“But, not tonight,” Castiel says, and licks over the puckered flesh._ _

__Dean’s thighs attempt to crush Castiel’s head, but he was ready for that, so he holds them in place._ _

__*_ _

__When Dean had gotten the text from Castiel, he’d almost choked on his beer. It was a Tuesday night and he had finished the outline of his project for Advanced Renewable Energy Sources, so he was lounging around the den watching Benny play Ash in beer pong. They’d invited him to join, but he’d refused. It was still a school night, and Device Electronics labs with Dr. Masters were a _bitch_ at eight in the morning-- even without a serious hangover. He laughed off Benny called him a wimp because he’d proven his ability to outdrink the man nine times out of ten at the parties they held in that very room. _ _

__The text was short, complete with full punctuation and capitalization that reminded Dean of Castiel’s long fingers for some unknown reason._ _

__Castiel had been mistakenly assigned as a TA to an engineering class back in September and Dean had warmed to the guy as soon as he’d seen the way he interrupted the condescending prof’s rant about lazy teacher’s assistants these days. And it just so happened that Dean had to take an elective that particular semester. And that Castiel’s class was Greek Mythology. And that Dean happened to like old ass stories._ _

__And then Dean had nearly lost his mind with all the prep-quizzes and exams and had ended up _calling_ Castiel several times over the course of the semester to ask for help and on one occasion, an extension. _ _

__And now… _now_._ _

__Fuck, when Castiel dragged him into the janitor’s closet in the library, Dean had thought he might hit him. He’d actually been a little scared. But… Castiel drags his lips right over his balls and down to his… _Fuck!_._ _

__Dean Winchester had never made these kinds of noises in bed. He’d been partner to many, many women and each one was gone in the morning without a single complaint. But Cas… Dean couldn’t figure out if it was just because he was a dude (he was a _dude_!) or because of those god damned blue eyes. Or the way his mind never quite forgot that hazy kiss on New Years Eve. Or maybe it was that stupid sex hair that Castiel Novak, a resident nerd, was definitely not entitled to… But Dean could not stop the little whimpers and breathless pleas for… for… for what? He couldn’t say it out loud. _ _

__Besides, it was Dean’s job to be the smartass in this relationship. He was the one who brought Cas his coffee with extra whip cream instead of low fat soy. He was the one who sent the freshman girls to his office hours under the pretense that Castiel was a _huge_ opponent of animal testing and _of course_ he would support their rally._ _

__So he isn’t going to give up that position of power here. He just… needs… to…_ _

__“Cas, please!” Dean finds himself whispering as he felt Cas’ tongue breach him alongside a long finger. Glancing down, Dean catches Castiel’s eye as he leans back, positioning his red mouth above Dean’s dick again._ _

__Dean is not going to survive this._ _

__It only takes a few more minutes. Castiel isn’t even really inside him, but the burn of that one finger simmers in Dean’s gut as Castiel laps at a bead of precome on his dick and that’s it, show’s over, Dean has to shut his eyes as he comes without warning all over Castiel’s face._ _

__He immediately opens them again when he hears the sound of skin on skin and _holy shit_ Castiel hasn’t gotten off yet. Not for lack of trying, however, because the man is thrusting into one fist and _holy_ fucking _shit_ licking his lips, Dean’s come. Dean’s dick gives one half-hearted pulse at that and then Castiel is coming too, eyes locked on Dean’s as he paints the back of Dean’s thighs. He collapses on top of Dean with a grunt, smearing the sticky mess between them._ _

__Dean looks down at where Cas is now lying, panting on his chest. Letting his knees drop, Dean brings a finger up to Castiel’s jaw. Cas looks up at him, expression moving from confusion to burning intensity in seconds. Dean shrugs, as if his heart isn’t beating in his own ears, and licks his finger curiously. Castiel licks his lips again, tracking the movement like prey. Dean leans down to kiss Castiel’s jaw, lapping at the taste of himself on his skin, and then Castiel is hoisting himself up to grab Dean’s face. He kisses him deep, his teeth digging into Dean’s bottom lip._ _

__And then he’s gone, and Dean is again reminded of that first day of the new year when he’d woken up alone and hungover._ _

__“Catch,” Castiel says, throwing a (very cold) wet washcloth onto Dean’s stomach._ _

__Dean wipes at the mess on his legs, watching Castiel as he pulls on a pair of orange boxer briefs._ _

__“So, uh,” Dean starts. Castiel throws him a pair of dry boxers._ _

__“Just shutup,” Castiel mutters. “And don’t you _dare_ put that god awful sweater back on.”_ _

__Dean only grunts, because he knows he looks good in that sweater, and settles warily into Cas’ bed._ _

__When Cas’ only reaction is to settle in beside him, Dean lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding._ _

__“Not bad for a second date, huh?” he says after a moment._ _

__Castiel lifts his head from Dean’s chest, an adorable frown forming on his face._ _

__“I mean, I hope our third one’s a bit sooner,” Dean continues nonchalantly. “Dunno if I can keep planning these months apart like this…”_ _

__Castiel’s frown turns into a glare as he doesn’t quite manage to keep up. God, he’s so hot, especially when he’s angry._ _

__“Then again, New Years was pretty spectacular, and this one’s been good too, so maybe I can make an exc-”_ _

__Castiel decks him. Right in the shoulder._ _

__“Hey!”_ _

__“Shutup, Winchester.”_ _

__Dean makes a wounded noise, unable to keep a tiny smirk off his lips._ _

__“Next Tuesday,” Castiel mumbles, kissing his chest._ _

__“Sorry, what was that?” Dean asks, just to hear it again. He’s already grinning. So sue him._ _

__“Next Tuesday,” Castiel growls, the soft lips turning into a bite._ _

__“Ow! Alright, alright,” Dean laughs, tugging on Castiel’s ridiculous hair a little. “Twist my nipple, why don’t you?”_ _

__Castiel lifts his head again, raising his eyebrow and looking like something straight out of some bad gay porn. (Not that Dean’s seen any.)_ _

__“As you wish,” Castiel says._ _

__Ha. Dean _knew_ the bastard stayed awake for that last movie on New Years._ _


End file.
